


Late Night Caller

by SniperMoran



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: But you already knew that, Comfort, Dean's an arse, Eggsy just wanted to help his mum, Harry cares about Eggsy, Hurt, M/M, an abusive arse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SniperMoran/pseuds/SniperMoran
Summary: (Another co-written piece from twitter, with my ever lovely writing partner #Dusty on their account @CodenameGalahad)One night, Eggsy's fucking tired of hearing Dean hurting his mum, so he decides enough is enough and intervenes. Wasn't the smartest of decisions...Wounded and not knowing where else to go, he finds himself on the doorstep of Harry.For personal reasons, this fic is no longer updating.





	1. Didn't Know Where Else to Go...

**Author's Note:**

> First off, SO FUCKING SORRY that my Cockney isn't that great. I'm still practicing, a LOT and trying to get it down.  
> Writing it has been difficult, so go easy on me, yeah?

It was another shit night, in a line of a bunch of shit nights. Dean and his goons were over nearly all the fucking time anymore, but Eggsy’s mum kept insisting that he not get involved. That things were fine.  
But things were not fine. They were far from fucking fine, and about the third time that night he heard some kind of pained sound from his mother, he’d had about enough.  
He pulled open his door, his eyes holding a fire in them as he stormed towards Dean, the oaf of a man whipping around when he heard his stepson coming out.  
“The fuck you want then?” He growled at the boy, who clenched his jaw in response.  
“For you ta ge’ tha fuck ou’ of ‘ere.” He snapped in response. He didn’t fucking care. He knew what was coming before the first hit landed to his gut, toppling him over a bit, knocking the breath from him.  
“Who the fuck d’you think you’re talkin’ to like that?!” Dean yelled, leaving behind Eggsy’s mother, who was already pleading that he stop. That Eggsy didn’t know any better, or something along those lines of motherly pleading.  
He righted himself, not willing to back down just yet. He’d give the fucker a run for his money if he could, for as long as he could. Then maybe, just fucking maybe, he’d leave his mum alone for a bit.  
So he threw some colorful language Dean’s way, calling him all sorts of things, throwing oil on his fire. His stepfather stepped to him, throwing more punches, kicks, threatening to grab a knife and go at him.  
Eggsy, of course, got a few hits in on him as well, just to keep things going and to keep himself from getting too bad off.  
But when Dean did finally grab the nearest knife, waving it about, and when he did cut Eggsy, his mother stepped in more vigorously, apologizing to Dean, offering him things that Eggsy wasn’t paying attention to. He watched as his own blood fell to the floor and he furrowed his brow.  
“Eggsy please…” His mum whispered softly, looking at him with those eyes, telling him without words to get as far away from here as possible. Thanking him for trying.  
So he did, he got out, not having the energy to argue with her, or the strength to take any more from Dean. He stumbled out of the apartment and wandered away from it, not realizing where his feet were taking him until he found himself at Harry’s door.  
He paused at it, looking down at himself. He was an absolute mess; bruises already forming in places, not to mention the blood staining his shirt, and he was more than positive that some of his ribs hurt more than usual.  
He thought about leaving, for a moment. Why bother Harry at a time of night like this? He could almost hear Harry’s voice in his head: ‘A gentleman does not call on someone after 10pm.’  
It was way past 10pm.  
But he was already here, and where the fuck else could he go? He didn’t have the energy to even think about that, and so he was knocking on Harry’s door without another thought, hoping beyond hope that he would answer.

Harry was aware of Eggsy’s home life. Of course he was. Not only had he stepped in to protect the boy in the past—a good old fashioned scare and confuse tactic—but Eggsy had also occasionally opened up about such domestic issues in the past.  
The abuse towards his mother…towards Eggsy, himself…It would probably only be a matter of time before the brute lashed out at little Daisy as well.  
The thoughts were enough to spark a well concealed rage inside of the Agent.  
How could such a brave and brilliant man like Lee Unwin be replaced by this utter disgrace of a human being?  
Yes…Harry had tried to intervene further, asking Arthur more than once for permission to do something…anything to protect Eggsy.  
Each request was met with the same eye-roll and the same sort of response.  
“You must stop pandering to the boy. He’s a grown lad. He needs to learn to fight his own battles…”  
But Harry knew that Eggsy fought all sorts of battles…every single day.  
Besides, how would the boy react to Harry stepping in to protect him? He was stubborn…still yet to brush that chip off his shoulder. He’d probably be furious. Perhaps it would be best to leave him to it…But that still didn’t soothe the constant, niggling worry Harry would feel when the two were apart.  
It was only a matter of time before Eggsy would show up at his doorstep in the dead of night…  
Sat in his chair, Harry watched the fire place flicker and begin to die out. A half drunken glass of scotch to his left, perched carefully on the coffee table alongside his glasses. He felt that inevitable lull of sleep begin to pull him under, only disturbed by a loud and rather frantic knock on his front door.  
At this hour…?  
Heavy eyes drifted over to the clock as his brow furrowed.  
Who on earth would be visiting now?  
If it was one of his fellow agents, they would have contacted him in a far more discreet manner, using their highly technological resources to alert Galahad if anything was wrong…  
He was getting too old for this.  
Slowly, cautiously, Harry moved towards the doorway, his gun in hand and out of sight as he moved along the wall…An agent of his rank within such a service would never be too careful…There were many who would like to see him dead.  
Skilled hands reached out to unlock the door, a breath held in his lungs as he readied himself to attack if need be as the visitor was revealed.  
…..  
Part of him would have preferred to see an armed terrorist than the beaten, bruised and bleeding sight ahead of him.  
“…Eggsy…” The name was spoken in a whisper of disbelief before Harry finally allowed himself to fully register.

When the door opened and the older man stepped into view, Eggsy felt the sudden urge to avert his gaze. It was a little late, now, to turn tail and find somewhere else to go, but how could he explain to Harry why he was even there…  
“I…’m sorry ‘arry. Me fee’ brough’ me ‘ere an’…” his voice trailed off and he kept his gaze anywhere but Harry, looking mostly at the doorframe or the ground between them.   
It wasn’t like it was the first time that Harry had seen him roughed up a bit, because it had happened in the past. He’d asked about it, and Eggsy would tell him bits and pieces; he wouldn’t dream of lying to the man, but withholding some pieces wasn’t /technically/ lying, right?  
But this was a first, and this was a new low, and Eggsy felt the pit in his stomach.  
It’d never been this bad, when he would see Harry. And he’d never come to him in the middle of the night like this. It looked as though the man had been nearly off to sleep.  
“…I didn’ know where else ta go…” he added, his voice softer than his usual.


	2. To Care for a Broken Thing

Eggsy was a scrappy sort of lad…And probably always would be. Seeing him with the occasional bruise or scrape had become almost second nature to Harry, but to see Eggsy like this…A beaten /mess/…It made him feel sick. Almost giddy with a rage that he refused to let show.  
He would have loved nothing more than marching down to that flat and putting a bullet between that bully’s eyes…But that wouldn’t have been proper. Nor would it have been professional. But it could potentially save a family.  
He’d think more about that later. For now, his attention was on the wounded young man at his door.  
Swallowing back that rage, fear and horror, Harry tried to keep a level head as he opened the door wider to allow Eggsy in, suddenly bursting into action once the boy was inside and the door was closed.  
“How bad is it? Stab? Cut?” He asked with a tone of urgency, grabbing a tea towel on the way into the living room and sitting Eggsy down carefully.  
“Hold this on it. Apply pressure. It’ll help with the bleeding.”  
Subconsciously, his hand gave Eggsy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before he departed to find some first aid supplies like a man on a mission. If he stopped now, that flood of negative emotions would come crashing down on his usually impeccable confidence…At least he knew what he was doing.  
It wasn’t the first time he had patched a fellow agent up.  
Nor would it probably be his last.

Before he could even manage a word of protest, he was ushered into Harry’s home and into his sitting room with a fucking towel pressed to his side. He winced slightly as he put pressure on it, but bit back any sounds that might come. “I fink I’s justa cu’….” He called after Harry, licking his suddenly dry lips.  
He’d been in Harry’s home before, nothing new there.  
Except for that it was new. He’d never been here at night. Never unannounced or uncalled for. But here he was, in the man’s sitting room in the wee hours of the night, fucking bleeding on one of his towels.  
If he had a right mind in his head at all at the moment, he might be slightly embarrassed, or even a bit frustrated with himself, but he couldn’t muster those feelings. He pressed harder on the wound in his side and bit back a hiss. It couldn’t have been that bad, right? He’d been able to walk all the way to Harry’s and it wasn’t like he’d bled out or collapsed. So definitely not a stab, then, or if it was, it was shallow enough he hadn’t been hit in any of his vital organs.  
“Listen, ‘arry…’m really sorry abou’ vis.” He added after a bit, through slightly clenched teeth. His eyes trailed over the room. It looked so different, lit only by the dying light of the fireplace.

Quick and precise, Harry still held a sort of elegance as he rushed around to receive supplies from around the house. Clothes. Antiseptic. Bandages. Years of training and hands on experience had prepared him well and, although he still felt an unquenchable rage burning in his chest, he didn’t allow such feelings to hinder him.  
Apologizing. Did Eggsy seriously just apologize? He had no reason to. Harry would much rather care for the boy than find him bleeding out and half dead the next day. It was obvious that Eggsy needed some TLC, something that the young boy had obviously been deprived of for quite some time. Luckily, Harry was here. He always would be…And he had a feeling Eggsy would know that.  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eggsy…” Entering his living room, the light was clicked on so he could properly see, items immediately were set down and Harry knelt beside the chair. His sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened and glasses were back in place on the bridge of his nose. “You’ve nothing to apologize for…” A strong, yet gentle hand carefully guided Eggsy’s own away from the wound, carefully followed by the blood soaked towel. He was going to have to lift the shirt to get a better angle.  
“…May I…?”

When the lights came up, Eggsy squinted for a moment or two, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness. His eyes fell on Harry, then, when he had knelt down beside the chair. It was rare to see him casual like this.  
Jokingly, he even sometimes thought that Harry slept in some sort of pajama suit. But then he would realize he was thinking of the other man and he would push the thoughts away, like he needed to do now.  
When his hand had been moved away, he looked down at it, furrowing his brow a bit. “Bleeding more van I fought….” He muttered absently, glancing towards Harry. He looked so focused when he asked about lifting Eggys’s shirt. “Ah, yeah, vat’s…wha’ever you ‘ave ta do, ‘arry.” He said, his voice quiet.  
He had every urge to apologize again, or bitch about the shit Dean and his goons had been pulling lately, but his energy had already been so low as it was. He felt exhausted, and he wasn’t even sure if it was from the events of the day, or the fucking blood loss over a stupid cut. Had it really been that deep?  
He took in a deep breath and winced, but attempted to ignore the pain. “Is I’ really bad?” He asked.

With permission granted, Harry nodded in a mutual silent agreement with himself before gently folding the shirt up with steady hands…If he hadn’t have been a Kingsman agent, he would have made a spectacular surgeon.  
Blood, sticky and congealing, clung to his fingers and hands. Some even smudged against the pristine white of his shirt…But he didn’t care. It didn’t matter…The only thing that mattered was the younger man’s safety.  
Shirts could be dry cleaned, after all.  
A moment of thought crossed Harry’s mind with a soft hum, fingers brushing at the skin around the cut that harshly marked Eggsy’s pale flesh, a clean slice carved cruelly into the boy’s well sculpted body—  
Ahem.  
Now certainly was not the time to let his mind wander to /that/…Whatever that could be classified as. He often had strange, wandering thoughts about Eggsy. Little hints and niggles that were unexplainable. As he did every other time, he shook it off and strived on.  
“No…” The cloth was now brought forward, gently dabbing at the cut. “It’s merely a cut to the flesh. Sore, yes…but there’s no internal injuries.” The gentleman continued to dab, focus on the wound before him.  
“…I can already guess who’s responsible for this.”

Eggsy winced when his shirt was peeled away from the already drying wound in his side. Harry was being so unbelievably gentle with him, carefully cleaning his wound. He furrowed his brow and averted his gaze from Harry, suddenly feeling a bit bad that he’d come to him for help. He was getting his blood on his hands and his shirt….  
“’e was ‘ur’in my movah.” He muttered, letting out a sigh, shaking his head and glancing back down at Harry. He gave him that sad little look before closing his eyes, wincing at the sting in his side. “I weren’t jus’ gonna leave ‘im ta ‘urt ‘er.” He added, looking down at his side for a moment.  
“I’m sorry ‘arry…” He muttered. It felt like he was always running to the older gentleman, for one reason or another. And now he was here in his home in the dead of night getting blood everywhere.  
Some friend he was.

Sigh.  
It seemed that, yes. Unfortunately, Harry’s suspicions were correct. As if the rage that burnt and tightened his chest needed to get any worse. He could almost feel his trigger finger itching…Itching to fire a shot right between that brute’s eyes. Free the Unwin’s from his horrific antics…This would have to be sorted out one day. Harry just wasn’t quite sure how, for the time being.  
Still applying occasional pressure and checking on the slowing bleeding, Harry spoke with a tone of concentration…care.  
“As I said before. You have nothing to apologize for. It may usually be considered impolite to show up at a man’s door unannounced.” Especially in the dead of night. “But there is always an exception.” The bleeding was controlling itself well, giving Harry the chance to sit back and prepare the antiseptic on a clean cloth.  
“What you did tonight, Eggsy, was indeed heroic…” Dark eyes flicked up to meet the boy’s face once again, a bloody hand moving to adjust his glasses. “But for god sake, next time call me…You could have gotten yourself killed.” Just a few more inches and the blade would have pierced his abdomen. Torn through several organs.  
Sighing softly through his nose, Harry turned his attention back to the wound that now needed cleaning.  
“This is going to sting…”

“Weren’t like vere was much time ta fink about i’.” He muttered absently in response. His eyes met Harry’s gaze for a moment, watching his bloodied hand adjust his glasses.  
He swallowed heavily and glanced away.  
It wasn’t Harry’s fight, anyway. This was his fight, his responsibility. They were his family. “I’ were eiver make a move, or con’inue lis’nin’. And you know I can’ jus’ si’ around….” He added, scoffing slightly, but the action made him wince a bit.  
Harry was right, though. He was lucky that Dean was a shit aim, otherwise this night might have had a much different ending…  
He glanced back to Harry, searching his face before glancing to the cloth. “Go for i’. Can’ ‘ur no worse van i’ did.” He threw a bit of a grin up at Harry, trying to play off what had happened, trying to lighten the mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still need to work on the accent a bit but hey~ It's getting there I think!
> 
> This will be it for a while, I have to apologize for the inconvenience to you lovely readers  
> We'll be back eventually!


End file.
